The truth about me…

If you want it, first I have to ask,

Can you handle it?

Are you able to hold it gently in the palm of your hand

Like a fistful of sand,

Or will you grasp too tightly

And cause each and every grain of me

To slip away?

I have a strong surface,

But I am much too fragile,

Like glass.

I haven’t always been this way,

But I have grown weaker

As time has passed.

Still, as sand in my broken form,

My tiny shards of glass

Are what make me.

What am I you ask?

To some I am a worn, translucent bowl

Used every day,

Taken advantage of,

And never truly noticed.

But to myself,

I am an intricately designed, crystal vase

Meant to hold the essence of natural beauty.

Whether I am broken and shattered into a million pieces,

Or strategically placed as a centerpiece,

It matters not how you see me,

For I know my true value and worth.

My final question is,

Will you hold me just the same?